Stakeholder Choice: A Colonial Trader Quest

The countryside has changed since the last year, and changed yet more since the uneasy days just after '57. As the train took Vijay Chandekar up to see his brother again, past the Marathi countryside, he can see those changes at second hand. Not at firsthand, not with the fencing around the railway tracks and the way every station is home to police and the bored, jaundiced gazes of ticket-collectors. But second hand information, through casual conversation with the sort of people Renu would have chased out of his train compartment had she been here, is enough.

There are more idle men in the villages even as land grows scarce. There are walls being put up, says the old man in the train compartment who's headed to work in Pune. He tells Vijay that the walls are to mark off the landlords' ownership, that the old rights enjoyed by most of the sharecroppers aren't in the new laws. It is all in some book, he says, a book that one of the new collectors in the area has. What goes in the book is the law, but one has to be rich enough to put things in the book.
Or British, says Vijay. He gets a bitter laugh at that, a nod of agreement as the sun dips beneath the horizon and the train rolls slowly into Pune railway station.

Shiv's home has likewise changed. The same walls that the old man on the train spoke about are here as well, rough-hewn stone surrounding the expanse of lands that Shiv's branch of the family claims as its ancestral fief. When asked about it Shiv looks slightly uncomfortable, answering in terms of the British tax collector and the new laws. If it is not in the law and in the papers, it does not exist he says, and Vijay is again reminded of the conversation on the train. When Vijay asks his brother about the old rights of appeal, of the sort of informal deputation that used to go to the governors in the cities, he gets a shrug. There are paper laws now, government by kitub as some of the laborers call it.
Times have changed.

Dinner is similarly disconcerting, a melange of the familiar and the different. Shiv and Geeta are the same, aging but reliable and aging but waspish respectively while their table is as traditional as it used to be. Alongside the old paintings of the family as things were before '57 is new decoration – British-bound books on the shelves, a map of the estate with the spidery English lettering of a notary's signature and a fine English clock. With the new decoration is a new person at the table, a nervous-looking young teenager at the 'private' family dinner. This, thinks Vijay, is his nephew, little Neeraj now grown up. It's been a long, long time indeed.

A sidelong look from Shiv as they sit cross-legged at the low table gets Vijay to stir a little and address the elephant in the room, "So, Neeraj, you want to go to England?" The boy stiffens up at being addressed directly, wispy facial hair on a plump face making him seem younger than he is.

"Y-yes." The boy stammers once before meeting Vijay's eyes, looking down at his food before he does as if searching for answers in the dal and rice. "They brought the railway with them. The English, I mean. I want to learn about that. About the railway, about the things they have done with steam."

"Those are useful skills to have." Shiv's not-very-casual observation is an obvious one, "But the English may not teach that. Look at the ones who have gone there. Satyendranath Ghosh – that Bengali who came to Bombay – he studied law, apparently. Others also did law. What makes you think the English will teach you the tools they use here?"

The question seems rehearsed, and it likely is. Neeraj blinks once before answering far more smoothly, eyes flicking in Vijay's direction now and again as if to gauge his uncle's mood as well as answer his father's question. "Either I learn that or I learn law and the legal system. I'll have to do some studies here anyways before I go. The professors at the university here can tell me whether or not I can study sciences."

"Here?" Vijay's question is more to gauge how much Neeraj has thought this one out at the age of fifteen rather than to genuinely know, but nevertheless. It's always useful to know where to find English-educated people.

Neeraj bites his lip once, eyes distant as if remembering something before answering as if reciting a list. "There's Stephen's in Delhi. The college at Pune. The other college at Calcutta – Presidency. Those three are the big ones."

"And you can study sciences there?"

"I can try." Shiv nods at that as if satisfied by his son's wariness and reluctance to overpromise, and Vijay just grimaces. Uncertainty is never good to have, especially with one's ambition on the line.

Still, best to let the boy go. "I will help him, then. I have some few contacts here in Bombay, Indrajit has a few more in Calcutta. We have the money." Shiv smiles a little at the confirmation and Neeraj relaxes a little.

Shiv's smile is wary, though. "Not like you to decide this so fast, brother." He ladles more dal onto his place as he talks, wife calling over one of the servants to refill the buttermilk. "You were more cautious with Adit than this."

"Adit moved faster than I did, partly because of that." Vijay grimaces before nodding in Neeraj's direction, "Anyways, it would be very useful to have more English-trained engineers. Or at least someone who can be trained as one. Education is useful. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Neeraj's curious question is almost blurted out, getting an angry stare from his mother.
Vijay just smiles, thin and cold this time.

"You've seen the sad little babus who line the ticket counters and the ones that cannot enter the ICS? The ones that buy their education and come from Bengal never to find a home?" The question is addressed more to Neeraj than Shiv, but gets nods from both of them. Vijay continues with memories of Indrajit's angry letters from Calcutta in his mind, "Always remember your home. Don't go to England and come back a little Englishman who stays in the cities. You are a Marathi from this family and from this land. Remember that."

"Maintain connections to home." Shiv once more states the obvious, prompting Vijay to roll his eyes before nodding.
Always keep your ties to home. Hopefully the boy will remember that, if he goes abroad later on. The admission can be handled, but the boy cannot be.

---

[Rolled: Singapore: 72]

21st​ August, 1871
Dear Uncle Vijay,
I write to you from the Straits Settlements where the English are now coming in greater and greater numbers. They have now formally divided the city into police zones with Sikhs from Punjab and Marathis to police it, with more of those damned Bengali babus to handle paperwork. The collectors themselves are all Englishmen from England, their wives unable to exist in anything outside of a luxury bungalow and the Englishmen unable to string together a sentence in Malay or Chinese. As such, we have books of laws that are never truly fair or enforced outside of the times it involves English against English, because they cannot even understand us speak…
[…]
I digress, though. There is more Government here now that they have been bringing in workers from India. The workmen tell me that they are here because the crops are failing in Bengal and Oudh, the harvest was a bad one this year. If things do not improve, we will see worse yet I think. The islands here are full of Englishmen but the mainland parts of the Straits Settlements are where we live. The Indians, the Chinese, the Malays. The Bengalis and the other workers are pressed into that same space and have been quarrelling with the Chinese for space and for work. There have already been brawls between the Indians and the Chinese gangs for control of the docks, the Chinese have the edge there. The opium trade here is half illegal and smuggled, with most of that being under the thumb of the Chinese, giving them the money to buy off the police and the government for now. Unless some zealous Englishman comes or something too obvious happens, at which point they will immediately take action…
[…]
We have built something good here, I think. Gurudas has an eye for the docks and the warehousing, and we are making good money by renting out warehouse space as well as buying rubber from the Malays and shipping it onwards to the Straits. Gurudas has been pushing me to ask you about a broader arrangement in Singapore than just rubber. With the Dutch and more Englishmen acquiring plantations either in Indonesia or the Malay interior, we are losing ground in rubber and may well not be able to grow any more. Gurudas has proposed copying what he has done and moving into the business of teak wood, shipping teak wood from the Malay States and what rubber we can ship along with perhaps a dose of smuggling illicit opium. There is also the strategy that Gurudas himself has been engaging in, that of smuggling tea and hardwood from India and Malaya into Indonesia, and then selling onwards to the Dutch at a markup. With the English moving into the markets here and the Dutch tariffs being very high, we stand to make good money this way even avoiding the opium business…[…]...There is also a little silver and more tin in the Malay States, although that requires a British partner to act as the face of the business for a nominal fee…
[…]
I hope that all of you are well. It has been hard here with the Straits Settlements not being the most peaceful of places for now, but things are getting better. I hope that Neeraj has abandoned that mad idea of studying in England, any place that produces and promotes people like the local collector is not a place to go to for studying…
Yours,
Adit

Pick one option for your free second Singapore route. Due to the high roll, you may choose a legal option as well as the illegal ones: You have 7 Profit at the moment after the Calcutta acquisition spree:

[][LEGAL]Tin: This one requires an Englishman to act as the face of the business and sell onwards to England, with the concomitant hazards of expropriation if one missteps too much. On the other hand, tin is lucrative and the Malay States are slowly being forced to give up more and more independence to the British. Including mineral concessions. There are rumors of a British Residency – perhaps we might act before that is cemented and more Englishmen stream in? Costs 1 Profit from this turn, DC30 to establish a tin concession in the Malay States with an English 'partner'. Failing the roll forfeits the fee. Tin produces 1-3 Profit per turn and can be expanded, and is a feedstock good for canneries. If the DC is failed but this option is taken you will have the option to attempt it again in Turn 3 Actions for a similar fee and DC.

[][ILLEGAL]Teak: Smuggling teak into Indonesia and selling it onwards to the Dutch has a certain appeal, especially as it's cheaper in Malaya than it is in the Dutch colonies. However, if caught this will wipe out the route in Singapore and put Adit in legal jeopardy. Gurudas has offered to handle this side of things in exchange for a cut, and you can allow that to give you some legal cover. DC5 each turn to avoid detection, this turn there is no roll. Provides 1-3 Profit per turn.

[][ILLEGAL]Opium: This means partnering with the Chinese gangs that control the good and have the gateways to China proper, and they're in need of cash at the moment. Fork that over, and hopefully they'll keep to their end of things. You have enough dirt to potentially coerce them if they don't, at least. And opium….opium is profitable. Costs 2 Profit, DC20, opens illicit opium trade with no detection DC for now. Generates 1-2 Profit per turn, allows expansion of illicit actions and smuggling networks.

---

It's rare that Vijay puts thoughts to paper and sticks his neck out by writing something in a public forum, but Jamsetji Tata stirred things up enough that the older merchant feels he has to. The Tata heir has been more brash and cavalier, spinning golden dreams of a wealthy, industrialized India as he tells his investors about the good they are doing while he makes money, but that is not all of it. There is the cost of the industrialization, the great changes being wrought on the land by the English, the massive expense of simply satisfying the English laws and the uncertain nature of the justice system. All of that and more.

The question, to Vijay's mind, is how to justify the changes? Are they good? Are they simply making a nation like the babus from Bengal who don't know the nation they come from and are treated like dirt by the English they serve?
The thoughts come slowly, the writing takes longer, and making it something that Renu won't kill him for because he irritated the Governor takes even longer.

But eventually, the article takes shape in the local newspaper. Vijay takes time before deciding on a title, something that calls attention to the core statement of 'learning from the English to build our own things'. He calls it Rich nation, strong people.

It gets attention, notably a letter three weeks later asking to meet the following year. The letter is signed in impeccable Hindi from a man who was educated in England. It's signed Yours sincerely, Satyendranath Tagore.

---

AN: Getting back into the routine of writing, this is an interim while I prep the next few.